carpeting

Today, with a cup of tea cooling rapidly at my elbow and the arborist neighbour chipping elm in the back alley, I give you a shot of the first section of my manuscript laid out on the floor of our bedroom.



Or, put another way, poems that I wish were a book over a carpet that I wish was hardwood.

Put another ANOTHER way, a shot of my softwood flooring (paper is made from wood pulp, after all…).

But enough bloggy procrastinating, I must get back to it...